


midnight rider (on a cloud of smoke)

by daleked



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Erica is just badass okay, F/M, Humour, Lydia is a bartender, M/M, it has Danny in tiny shorts this is all I want from life, not really - Freeform, radical subversion of gender roles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-06
Updated: 2012-08-06
Packaged: 2017-11-11 14:03:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/479306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daleked/pseuds/daleked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU! Stiles is a stripper for one night at the behest of his boss. Derek shows up for Erica's hen party. With the help of five-dollar bills and enthusiastic waving of said dollar bills, they get it on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	midnight rider (on a cloud of smoke)

**Author's Note:**

> The blame for this falls on the shoulders of [sunsetpanic](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetpanic/pseuds/sunsetpanic). You can thank her, or curse me, or join us as we ramble and come up with even more ridiculous fics on [twitter](https://twitter.com/daleked). Title is from Alone by the Bee Gees :-)

"Please?" Chris says pitifully. "Jackson is off macking with his new girlfriend, and there's a hen party happening here tonight!"

"And that argument totally makes me want to strip with Danny and Matt, how?" Stiles queries, wiping down the bar counter. "Work on the argument, dude. I'm supposed to be a simple waiter, remember?"

"One hundred, and you keep the tips they slip you."

"Three hundred," Stiles counters.

"One hundred fifty."

"Two hundred fifty!"

"A hundred seventy-five and I will never bring up the night you rode Danny right on that table," Chris says, and points to the one next to the wall with the pink seats. Where Stiles did, indeed, ride Danny like a pro one night when they both got tips from some crazy rich old pervert and went wild celebrating afterwards. 

Stiles had woken up sore on top of Danny the next morning, though, and Danny had been shy and considerate. But they both agreed it was bad form to sex up one's colleague, so left it at that.

It was good sex, though. Stiles couldn't deny that.

"Fine, but seriously, I'm not wearing the feather boa." Chris grins and ushers him towards the changing rooms, shoving him in. Danny smiles disarmingly at Stiles, passing him a tiny black cloth. Stiles holds it up.

"... It's a male g-string, isn't it?" Danny shrugs.

"Hey, at least you don't have to wear underwear that's missing the butt." Danny walks over to the clothing rack and yes, Stiles checks his ass out. In the undies that are, indeed, missing the butt. No point in wasting opportunities and all that. 

"Give him the schoolboy outfit, they'll like that," Matt leers, coming over. "Stiles, I gotta do your makeup. You look like a turquoise kinda guy."

"Nah, dark blue. Oh. Oh my god, I have an idea." Danny is sorting through the rack furiously, looking for a specific outfit. His hands are a blur and so are the clothes. Stiles is starting to have visions of them dressing him up like a Japanese schoolgirl while the both of them are dressed as adults, say, a teacher and a mechanic. It is not a happy thought. Stiles has never looked good in skirts. (Hard-earned knowledge from one time he got plastered and was convinced to shimmy into Lydia's French maid ensemble. On hindsight, perhaps he should have waxed his legs first.)

"Come on, say it!" Matt urges.

"Little red Stiles hood," Danny says, holding up a little red poncho with a hood and a zip down the front as well as tiny red shorts, grabbing red mittens and adding them to the outfit. 

"What? Isn't that a little too kinky?" Stiles protests, blushing as Danny puts the mittens on his hands.

"The hen party requested a fairytale," Matt says helpfully. "I'm a prince and Danny is a merman."

"A prince..." Stiles struggles with the concept of a noble-looking Matt on a white horse, which is hard once you've seen him waving his tackle about one night when the women were being extra grope-y. Matt likes the attention sometimes, but what gets him going is his snakeskin vest. When Matt puts his snakeskin vest on, all bets are off. Stiles has actually seen Matt do unspeakable things with the snakeskin vest on. Unspeakable things, like starting an orgy and sleeping with half the ladies in a recent hen party all at the same time. He suspects that the wedding two days later was awkward between all the women involved.

"Say, why isn't Scott on today, anyway?" Stiles asks, dropping his underwear and pulling on the g-string. Working in a strip club has officially forced any lingering self-consciousness away, what with near-naked guys humping poles and air every night. Danny eyes him appreciatively and Stiles blushes, yanking the tiny red shorts up quickly and adjusting them so that they don’t force the g-string completely up his butt.

“Dating Chris’ daughter gets him off work, I guess. Twirl for me.” Stiles does a little spin, feeling ridiculous, and Danny presses up against his back and hums.

“Your ass does look great in these. Matt, what do you think?” Danny turns Stiles around so that Stiles’ nose is buried in Danny’s chest, and he inhales sharply at the movement. He can practically feel Matt’s eyes burning holes in his butt.

“Maybe if we can get him to bend over a little and shimmy?” Stiles splutters and extracts himself from Danny, backing up against the wall.

“I’m not gay jailbait! Why would they want to look at my bum?” Matt comes over and pushes Stiles so that he’s bent over the makeup table, pressing hard into his back. There’s a contemplative silence.

“… Let me up,” Stiles croaks, and Danny sighs.

“At least he’s started shaving after the Lydia incident.” Matt hums and presses harder, so that Stiles has to tiptoe to get himself some air.

“Alright, it’ll do.” The pressure eases and Stiles straightens up, gasping.

“What the hell, dude!” Matt shrugs and graces him with a huge smile, throwing his arms wide open. He’s in a sheer lace shirt and tight leather shorts, and Stiles has no doubt that both articles of clothing will be coming off later. A flash of skin in a corner distracts him: Danny is putting on shimmery sea green briefs, and somehow still manages to look incredibly manly. Stiles pulls on his shirt and stands there feeling ridiculous in sneakers, skintight shorts and a School of Rock t-shirt.

“My methods have never been questioned,” Matt tells Stiles, and puts on his snakeskin vest. “The hen party will be here at eight thirty. Make-up will take half an hour for you, Stiles, so grab us some drinks. I’m gonna psych myself to be sexy.” Stiles leaves the changing room and runs into a wall. Alright, not a wall. A solid, solid body. Attached to a head. Who is glaring at him. Stiles has never seen such expressive eyebrows in his life.

“Er… What are you doing back here?” Stiles squeaks. Mr. Emotive Eyebrows looks at him.

“The toilet’s down this way, isn’t it?” Stiles nods and Mr. Sceptical Eyebrows stares at him some more. Stiles clears his throat.

“You’re blocking my way.” The Eyebrows raise up a little.

“You’re gripping my shirt.” Stiles hurriedly lets go and flattens himself against the changing room door.

“Right, right! Sorry. Well. Um. I’m going to the bar now. I guess you’re here for tonight, huh? Well, I’m on tonight, so, okay, well, not many guys come here except for gay ones, but they’re mostly Danny’s friends, so let me tell you, don’t let them buy you any drinks because there was this one time I let them convince me-”

“I’m going to the toilet,” Mr. Eyebrows says slowly, like he’s talking to a retard. Stiles slips past him, into the safety of the soft muted dark of the restaurant area of the club.

“Right, sorry. I’m sorry. Hey, so, you know, the toilet’s down there, so bye!” He scurries off to the bar, where Lydia is mixing up drinks. Talk about the reversal of gender roles. Stiles is a stripper for one night, and Lydia is creating a storm in a cup.

“The usual for Danny and Matt, and I’ll just have a Virgin Mary.” Lydia takes them out from the fridge beneath the counter and passes them to Stiles.

“I’m afraid that Mary isn’t really a virgin,” Lydia says. “You look like you need alcohol in your system.”

“You are a beautiful person,” Stiles tells her and gulps his drink down, bringing the others back with him. Thankfully, he does not run into Mr. Sexy Eyebrows on the way back, so all is good. Matt is doing a little dance and Danny is talking on the phone, and smiles at Stiles when he comes in. They down the drinks, then Matt forces him into a chair and lines his eyes with kohl, smudging it artfully. Danny slicks up Stiles’ lips with a swipe of gloss before passing him the poncho. Stiles puts it on apprehensively before looking in the mirror and oh god, he looks like a hooker with a fairytale theme. Exactly what they’re going for, then.

“You ready?” Matt says, twisting his hips and bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I mean, we all know Chris asked you because you know the routine and stuff by heart. And you’re a great dancer.” Stiles warms up with them and feels like an Olympic gymnast standing up to go on the bars. His stomach gives a funny flip as he walks down the corridor to peek out the curtains and sees Mr. Vaguely Friendly Eyebrows talking to a rather hot blonde. They seem to be familiar with each other. Probably his girlfriend, Stiles tells himself. They toe off their shoes and Stiles stuffs his socks into his filthy sneakers. And promises himself that he will buy new socks.

“Oh, wait. Gee, nearly forgot. Cock rings.”

“Cock rings?” Stiles near-shrieks. “ _Why_?”

“The blood goes elsewhere when you’re dancing, like coming out of the shower,” Matt explains, handing them the cock rings. “Come on, chop chop.”

“Deep breaths,” Danny says, grinning, and slaps Stiles’ butt. “Good luck out there, Genim.”

“Don’t touch my ass,” Stiles replies, and they hear Chris’ voice.

“This, ladies, is what you’ve been waiting for- introducing Danny the Merman, Little Red Stiles Hood, and Matt, the prince of your dreams!” They go out, and Stiles feels his heart drop. Mr. Intrigued Eyebrows is sitting closest to the stage, and the blonde beside him is waving a bunch of notes. While looking straight at Stiles.

Oh, fuck.


End file.
